


Making It Slow and Steady

by bold_seer



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Magic and Science, POV Tony Stark, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-09-01 15:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20260447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/pseuds/bold_seer
Summary: “Watch me,” says Stephen suddenly, with conviction.





	Making It Slow and Steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MangoTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoTea/gifts).

> For the prompt: _Tony is unsettled but fascinated by magic._

The blue grey fades into an indistinct, impenetrable mass. After, the sky is bathing in yellow light, followed by fluffy, pillowy clouds. It’s a spectacle, Super Bowl on a real big field.

“Watch me,” says Stephen suddenly, with conviction. Like he’s going to command the clouds, the magician that he is. Like he’s Thor, deep voice and deeper powers. Thor is over a millennia old. Tony has at least half a decade on Stephen. More than that in the superhero biz.

Science can do a lot, affect the weather, but so can magic. Eldritch whips and pocket dimensions, defensive mandalas or a threatening vortex, everything Stephen performs with a confidence that rivals Tony’s. Sometimes exceeds it. Less posing for the cameras, more a spell and a wink. Posing for Tony. Doctor Strange (Things Happen Around Him). (Comparatively) Friendly Wizard Next Door. (Hot) Arrogant Ass. How do you measure what he does? The way you measure anything else, probably - endurance, output, creativity.

It’s an offer. They’re outside, as relaxed as they can be. Like a minimalist picnic: forgot the food, and the blanket keeps moving. Tony chews on his lip, leisurely. “Going to show me your magic wand?”

Stephen glances at him. A fond, unimpressed look, as if to say he can have fun without his wand. Unlike Tony?

He likes watching Stephen. How magic transforms an offbeat, ordinary guy into an extraordinary wizard. He’s not Loki. Not Wanda. His magic is nothing like theirs, blue or red, heavy and oppressive. It consists of fragile-looking, surprisingly strong, golden sparks that light up the darkness.

Some of that frayed, old energy clings to Tony, needling his legs. His chest. He fights off the warning signals, keeps his panic in check. This is Stephen, Tony reminds himself. Demonstrating his abilities, one show-off determined to impress another. Sharing something of himself. Stephen uses magic casually, sometimes deliberately in front of Tony, acclimatising steps. Something about their current situation isn’t casual at all. Waves of tension, pulsing between them. Tony’s heart beats faster.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Stephen. His powers. His brand of magic. For all his wise wizard act, centuries old clothing, experience that defies time and space, definitely defies logic, Stephen is new to this. No _no sleep_ shortcuts. Before he soared, Tony crashed and burned. Several times.

Coy or careful, Stephen doesn’t do anything. Tony doubts it’s performance anxiety. “Your spells, Maestro,” he says, impatience creeping into his tone. He’s trying with the hands-off approach. Let Stephen do his thing. Present Tony with a big bunny, floppy ears and all. Butterflies, which surrounded Stephen, frail wings beating thunderously.

Stephen hums, stretching out the _m_, which becomes: “Master.” Of the New York Sanctum, he means. His voice is husky, low, and stirs something in Tony. Desire almost as dangerous and thrilling as magic. New, but not really. New to _them_.

Yeah, so. They should - do that. Both ways, twice the fun? Tony pictures Stephen, coolly and confidently taking him apart, the way he practices magic. Annoyingly adept at handling Tony, who can be shameless and demanding. There’s a real satisfaction in seeing Stephen let go of his own restraints, wrapped tightly around him, roping around his arms and legs, suggestive reminders. Tony wants to hear him let loose. From barely audible breaths, to needy whimpers, to pure noise. Vocalising his desires, until he’s an incoherent mess. Make him beg for it.

Stephen doesn’t beg at the drop of a hat. He’s ridiculously stubborn. Equipped with more willpower than Tony, whose focus is razor sharp, but whose restless mind jumps from one subject to another, almost too easily. Stephen can be _such_ a tease. Which says something, coming from Tony. No pun intended. Tony’s sure he can take Stephen, eventually, to the point where he relinquishes his self-consciousness. Loses himself to sensation. Out of body experience, _in_ his body. Giving Stephen exactly what he’s asking for, doesn’t know he’s asking for, planned all along. Tony finds his focus. And Stephen floats.

They’ll do that.

The wispy clouds are right over them. Tony could fly. Stephen could grab his cloak and join him. Science and magic, not such a bad combination after all.

Stephen touches his shoulder. “That rock over there.”

Vanishing act, Tony thinks. They’re not looking at the Empire State Building, though. Statue of Liberty. Any other New York landmark. Go big or go home?

“Let me,” Stephen says, with the slightest hitch. “This, and then.” Tony reads him, _and then we’ll do what you want_. Stephen practicing his fine magic control, only to agree to giving up control later.

Tony nods. He wants to see this.

It’s not a vanishing act, but a deceptively simple trick. Graceful dance movements are hard work. Bruised, bleeding ballerina feet. Most inventions take more than one go - Tony’s suits. Placed in the air, high above them, hangs a large rock. Resembles some surrealist painting? Tony’s never been a fan.

It’s weird. He’s seen Stephen struggle with a kettle. Lifting it, holding it up, hands shaking that badly. Even when he hides the strain, Tony knows body language, Stephen’s body language, well enough to recognise pain and discomfort. Makes him think about waking up, completely out of it. Nightmares about falling endlessly. Here Stephen is, levitating rocks in the air. Lightly and effortlessly, without breaking a sweat. The combination of mind and body is actually hot.

Moving mountains with the tips of his fingers. Rocking Tony’s world with the slightest movement of his body. The thought that Tony could control someone that powerful. That Stephen, tapped into powerful magic, would allow Tony to do what he wants. It’s scary, mad, arousing. It makes beautiful sense. They do. Does magic feel as incredible? Tony’s amazement must show. Stephen turns to him -

“Yes,” he says empathically. Multi-tasking, because the rock is there. Perfectly still. “It’s, ah.” Stephen’s voice sounds raw, affected. “What you’re thinking.” It barely moves.

Stephen doesn’t know what Tony’s thinking. Tony built his suit and planned his escape, but he moves forward impulsively. He allows others in charge, if they take charge, have the attitude. Stephen confessed he only found his control when he surrendered completely. But Tony is a pessimist, or at least a realist. He’s seen too much to be an idealist. Had a car dropped on him, injured his arm. “If the rock falls?”

“I would feel very bad,” Stephen deadpans. Gently, he lowers the rock to the ground. “The Cloak of Levitation would whisk you out of the way, if you didn’t suit up.” His eyes linger on Tony’s body, his biceps. “I am a doctor, you know.” Before the inevitable joke about the full treatment, Stephen turns serious. “Tony, you’re an expressive person.” So, that’s what the scrutiny was. Not just appreciation. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” There’s something tender in his gaze. “I know you don’t _like_ magic.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Tony answers immediately, not denying it. But it isn’t right either.

“My mentor – my _mentor’s_ mentor – described it as a source code.” Stephen adds, playfully teasing, “Should be up your street.”

“Up yours,” Tony says, no real heat. Maybe even literally. The Village can get weird. “That homicidal wizard who swore vengeance on your order? Thousand-year-old grandma? Because I’m thinking you need new role models.” Tony, showing him the ropes.

“You don’t trust my qualified opinion?” There’s an amused note. Or the other way around. Expert in two fields, Tony trusts Stephen on pretty much everything else, but he has no trust in his comp skills. “One, zero, one. Easier than manifesting a black hole.”

_Now_ he’s teasing. But it makes sense to him. Magic is Stephen’s life now. He’s a part of Tony’s. Stephen is magic.

Tony nods at the rock, back on the ground. “Think you can get it up again?”

“You know I can,” Stephen replies, without false modesty. “If you’re feeling out of energy yourself.” The words become a pleasant murmur. “You could - watch me.” 

Between the feather-light innuendo and the brazen come-on, Tony spots his opportunity. “Could do, and miss out on the fun.” He dives for it. “Or I could play with you.” Observes Stephen’s reaction. “See how long you can juggle your magic.” Testing the limits of Stephen’s self-control, the boundaries of Tony’s comfort. Science and magic, up for round two.


End file.
